


Learning (on hiatus, will return as soon as I can!)

by anotechaotic, BrieCS (anotechaotic), thatlittleitch (anotechaotic), your-eyes-touch-me-physically (anotechaotic)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9341501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotechaotic/pseuds/anotechaotic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotechaotic/pseuds/BrieCS, https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotechaotic/pseuds/thatlittleitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotechaotic/pseuds/your-eyes-touch-me-physically
Summary: After the war, there was no epilogue. The world didn't fast forward years and years to white picket fences and 2.5 kids. Instead, Harry tried to love Ginny but couldn't find happiness, and rejected the life of an auror. Instead, he teaches at Hogwarts as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and has found some comfort and happiness there. To his surprise, there is a change in his life when an old enemy comes to Hogwarts and becomes a friend, or something more.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

Post-war AU

The war had ended a while ago, but it still sat heavy on Harry’s heart. That’s why his first nights wrapped around Ginny had left him cold, when she was so warm. He looked at her and saw the end of Hogwarts for him, he saw Fred, he saw Lavender, Tonks, and Remus. He couldn’t look her in the eye in the mornings, feeling like he had tarnished her - she still had hope. His wasn’t there. They lasted months, but eventually he said goodbye, and he heard not long after that she’d been on a date with someone from her year, and it made his heart ease somewhat. That, he thought, was hope.

When he’d finished going back for exams - which he was still dumbfounded he was made to do - he received innumerable job offers. Auror, various ministry professions, even a professional seeker spot. He turned them down, except one. McGonagall had shown up at his flat (he couldn’t withstand Grimmauld Place, though it was in his name, and he had left the Weasley’s long ago) and spoken to him.

“I know you will have many opportunities, Mr. Potter,” she said, her brow furrowed, but a tinge of enthusiasm pinking her cheeks, “but we would love to have you.”

Harry barely had to breathe to think of his answer, because it was out in a gasp.

“ _ Yes _ .”

He started as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor as soon as school was back, and even though there were battle scars on the castle and on everyone inside it, he had never felt more at home. He spent nights in feverish nightmares, and Madam Pomfrey would bring him potions to help him rest, so during the day he was bright and ready to teach.

The war had ended, but he still felt the pain. Not in his scar, which felt like dead flesh and nothing, but in his heart where he could only remember the loss and betrayal he had lived. It was no surprise to him that Dumbledore had been the man he was, using Harry for supposedly heroic goals. The man had been brilliant, but duplicitous in all ways. Snape’s final confessions had sat bitter in Harry’s throat, knowing that regardless of Snape’s love for Lily, the professor’s constant abuse and every act he’d committed in service of Voldemort was something Harry could forgive, but not forget. He remembered too many things, he would think every night of it. 

He had bottled Dumbledore’s pensieve, and began using it for himself. Easing his mind, reflecting on things. Some nights, he revisited good memories, and others bad, but sometimes, it was just good to say goodnight. 

It was a good life, for him, to be teaching. He felt at ease in it, walking students through fighting boggarts, finding their patronus, and telling them stories of the war with what he hoped was the weight and meaning they should have. He spent much of his free time actually reading the history of magic books that Hermione had given him ages ago, and annotating them in his own way to tell the stories with their connections to today, to explain where defensive magic came from - and why certain spells should never be used. 

He felt it worked better than most of his professors had done. When he thought about that, though, he thought about Lupin, and he had to rub his nose and change the subject. When a student prompted him once about why he never talked about old professors, always moving past, he nearly bit through his lip trying to tell the reasons why. When he told Lupin’s story, the room was filled with sniffles. Snape’s, with anger. Moody? The room rippled with fear. He resolved to tell that lesson from then on. Better they know how people really are, he thought.

After the way things had gone with the houses being separated when the final battle came, Harry had fought hard with McGonagall and many others in the school to abolish the houses structure. The competitive nature was toxic, he explained, 

“…but more than that, it will remind people of the power structures that got us where we were.” He wiped his brow in frustration. “Do you think that we wouldn’t have tried to go over to convince more Slytherin’s to our side if there hadn’t been this broad sweep that they were all evil and on the side of Voldemort? Would we have been so ignorant to those within the other houses who betrayed us?  _ Would we _ ?”

His passion had an impact, as did his legendary status, and McGonagall - as headmistress - enforced the change. Hogwarts became houseless, and the Sorting Hat retired to a case next to a few paintings so it would have someone to chat with should it be so inclined. It grumbled as it was carried to the case, but settled in eventually.

And so the dormitories were adjusted, and instead students could ask for preferential lodging. Some chose because that’s where their parents had been, others for the view, and still others for the peace. Survivors of the war were students, still, and peace became valuable beyond what it had ever been. 

Harry felt that the Gryffindor dormitories were too full of memories for him, and it was true - every time he saw the red and gold upholstery, he felt his eyes wet and he had to leave. He took to rotating through the houses for the first semester, and settled on a nook that had once been part of the Hufflepuff dormitories, not far from the dungeon and quiet, filled with soft things, and he could easily have it sectioned off for his own private room. 

He became accustomed to his life after three years passed. He visited friends over holidays, and spent the rest of his time at Hogwarts. He did travel once or twice, but rapidly learned that it would still take some time before big cities were his place to adventure. He kept a list of where he would go when he felt ready. It was very short.

This comfort is why he was so abruptly offended when he walked out of his room one day to run directly into a blond-haired, black-suited, and very irritable Draco Malfoy. The two men sputtered and backed away from each other as though they were scalded. 

“What the  _ fuck _ are you doing here?” Harry said, though he immediately regretted his vehemence. He followed with a stammered, “I mean, Mal– Draco. Why are you here?”

Draco slicked his hair back with one hand while straightening and dusting his suit. 

“I’m on loan.” His nose twitched in the same way it always did when he was proud. “I’m covering for Flitwick while he’s on an undefined length of sabbatical.”

“Charms?” Harry scrunched up his face. “ _ You’re _ teaching Charms?”

“Well, yes. After… I haven’t had much luck finding work, so I took on some academic studies. My skills with charms have become exceptional enough that McGonagall was willing to let me take this on.” Draco smiled a sharp and pointed grin. “As though we ever doubted I was anything but  _ charming _ .”

Harry snorted a laugh, and shook his head. He knew that there was baggage here, and the tension between him and Draco was enough to show that, but his pursuit of comfort in Hogwarts was just too important. And, truly, Draco’s mother was the reason he was alive, and he believed in that kind of goodness, however selfish others might have seen it. A mother’s love must mean something, even for someone who had given him so much trouble like Draco.

He stuck out his hand to Malfoy – Draco, Harry told himself, he would call him that – to shake.

“Welcome back, then. It’s supper soon. I’ll walk you - the stairways have gotten… agitated.” 

Draco stared at Harry’s hand for a second before taking it to shake, and Harry could feel a slight tremor in Draco’s hand. It didn’t end when their hands parted, and Harry had the prickling thought that Draco, too, had been through much in the war. Far too much, just like they all had. He settled his shoulders, and directed Draco towards the stairs. It was going to be a long year.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco’s presence at Hogwarts was… odd. Harry had never found himself to be anything other than annoyed by Draco, but the dynamic was different now. Where once they had been enemies - nemeses, even - they now were equals, sharing time, sharing space. He had plenty of time to observe Draco over the year at meals and at meetings, and he didn’t know quite  _ why _ he was observing him so closely.

He supposed at least some of it was paranoia. After all, Draco  _ was  _ an enemy for a very long time. After all, he had been the one who let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He had brought cursed objects into the school to harm other students. But he also had been such a patsy of Voldemort and of his family, trying to fulfill those expectations of his legacy and filled with pride. 

Draco was not the same, and neither was Harry. 

Harry, for one, had gotten much better at putting himself in other people’s shoes. He supposed this was in part Hermione’s influence, but he’d also found much value in Luna’s company. They wrote regularly, and talked about many things - her adventures on the field searching for magical creatures, as well as the people she encountered. She saw people differently, and when she came to visit Neville (a brilliant Herbology professor by any account, but rarely out beyond meals while he was working on research…which he always was), Harry would sit with her and talk about the people they knew, and the war. She had told him more than anyone else about how to see who people are. 

And of course they had spoken of Draco. He had spoken about Draco with everyone, at least once, when the war had ended. It was mostly because they had not been surprised at all, he thought, and they wondered why they hadn’t stopped it. He knew why, and he found himself grateful - the only way to stop Draco would have been to do the same cruel things that Voldemort would do, and Harry didn’t ever want to be like Voldemort. He spent too many years sharing his body and mind with Voldemort, whether he’d known it or not. 

The general assessment of Draco by Ron had been that Malfoy was a “stupid git that deserved anything bad that came to him,” and Hermione declined to respond at all, but her mouth would turn hard and her eyes blazed. Luna, however, shrugged. 

“He did what he thought he was supposed to,” she said, looking a little sad. “With that family, with Voldemort right beside you, can you imagine how hard it would be to say no?”

When she’d said it, at first Harry was affronted. How could someone even force themselves to do the things Draco had done, let alone show pride? She continued,

“Wouldn’t you try to find something in it for yourself to get past all the wrongness? He was  _ afraid _ .” 

Harry knew what it was like to be afraid. That night, he barely slept, remembering all of the times he had seen Draco wild-eyed, moments before something went wrong. Whether Draco had been arrogant from the start didn’t matter. Harry remembered when Lucius had been drawing his wand to attack Harry after he’d given Dobby his sock, and it clicked that perhaps Draco’s response to a man as capable of harm as Lucius Malfoy was just  _ different _ from the way Harry had responded to the Dursley’s. 

Fear. Harry understood fear.

And so Harry watched Draco, head tilted slightly as he looked down the table at dinner, as Draco talked to Madame Hooch over some bizarre broomstick charm he was working on. He seemed… happy, to a degree. His prideful posturing, Harry knew, had eased, and Draco seemed passionate about his work. Harry shook his head quietly. Draco and  _ charms _ ? Then it struck him.

The bird. 

The bird Draco had put through the Vanishing Cabinets. Harry had put it out of his mind in all the mess that the night of Dumbledore’s death had been. But there it was - that spell had been incredibly difficult, and Harry had even heard him practicing it. So that’s why charms, Harry thought. 

By the time  _ he _ realized how long he’d been staring down the table, so had Draco. Draco raised his eyebrow and the hint of a smirk played on his lips before he returned to his dinner. Harry flushed and stared very hard at the remnants of pudding on his plate, then quickly made his excuses and left.

 

The next day he made his way to the Herbology classrooms and waited until Neville’s class went out before awkwardly sidling in. Neville was covered in dirt head-to-toe, but was smiling as he dug around at something in a planter that was most definitely growling. 

“Er, hullo Neville.” Harry did a half-hearted wave. 

Neville glanced up for a moment, and a tentacle of foliage snuck up to grab him by the neck in that second, yanking him down into the planter. Neville yelped and flailed madly trying to pull away. Harry ran to help, but the professor obviously knew his business and demonstrated it by socking the plant a few good times into the dirt, after which the tentacle released him and withered down into the dirt. Neville laughed and strapped the plant in with some rope before turning to Harry.

“Hiya Harry, what brings you to my class? I don’t keep gillyweed, you know.” He winked and began to dust himself off a bit, gesturing Harry to a dirty set of stools by the back wall.

Harry chuckled as he sat down (after a very determined dusting of the stool).

“I wanted to talk to you about… Draco.”

Neville chewed a bit on the inside of his cheek, looking concerned, before exhaling slowly.

“Has he done something?”

Harry waved his hands in protest.

“Oh Merlin, no, he hasn’t.” He saw Neville’s entire body relax. “That’s part of why I want to talk. He’s different, and, yes, I know we’re all different, but–”

“He’s not Voldemort’s lackey anymore?” Neville gave Harry a  _ look _ that Harry could swear he borrowed from Hermione.

“He’s not.” Harry sighed and rubbed at his scar. It didn’t hurt, but sometimes the act comforted him. “He just isn’t the same, and I don’t know, it feels strange.”

Neville nodded, and took one of Harry’s hands.

“Listen, Harry. You and I were destined for greatness, and you won the worst lottery. Our lives were supposed to have been planned for us.  _ Now it’s over _ . Our destiny is  _ over _ . No one prepared us for that, and I don’t think anyone else was prepared for it either.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline like rockets. Neville shook his head.

“You and I, and now Draco, we’re teaching the future. I think we all need to try to learn how to live now. I’ve found my place, and I think you’ve found yours. Maybe Draco is still finding his.” He smiled knowingly. “I can guarantee that he is. He didn’t have  _ us _ , after all.”

Harry laughed, and shrugged. He squeezed Neville’s hand before drawing his back to shove his hair out of his eyes.

“I suppose you’re right, Neville. Who would have thought there’d be wisdom in that thick skull of yours?” 

“Nobody, I’m sure!”

 

Harry spent the next few nights grading student’s work, and reading over old newspapers. Specifically, old newspapers that mentioned the Malfoys. It was most likely creepy of him to do this, but he wanted to know more about Draco before he approached him. Even after so many years in school together, Harry knew little more than hearsay from people who disliked the Malfoys and Draco himself, and that wasn’t much. 

He resisted the urge to take notes and instead tried to memorize things. Mostly, it was about Lucius, but more recently Narcissa featured. Narcissa had been released from Azkaban, though Lucius still remained. Harry still hated the entire concept of Azkaban, and the fact that the Malfoys had spent time there sickened him, as it did with everyone else. He couldn’t get past how much torture it had been for Sirius, and how much it could damage someone. He knew what the Dementors were like, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

The papers spoke of Narcissa as a broken woman. She was moved to St. Mungo’s for a time, then taken home, where Draco had cared for her until he left for Hogwarts. At this Harry paused.  _ Why would Draco leave his mother at home? _ He set aside his thoughts for some time, and a line in an article told him why - the Malfoys were bankrupt. 

Harry was lucky enough to still have money left from his parents, as well as from Sirius, and some left from nearly everyone who had died in the war. He had been a favorite, and he returned much of it on the recovery efforts, but had kept some safely for himself at Hermione’s continued insistence. But he remembered how Ron and his family had struggled in the wizarding world without money. He couldn’t imagine Draco doing his own laundry, for Merlin’s sake. 

Harry felt like he had more of a grasp of the situation, then, and took a moment to bask in how proud of him Hermione would be, before realizing he’d probably smack him about the head for being up until half four reading about  _ Malfoy _ .

It was at the end of the Christmas holiday, while everyone was still returning to the school, when he bumped into Draco coming outside of his room, and they exchanged pleasantries before walking towards the Great Hall together. There was a tension between them, but Harry tried to ignore it. It was harsher when they walked past wounded walls of the castle, remnants of long-gone battle. They passed by a student, a 7th year who they both recognized but didn’t know her name, as she stared out a stained glass window that had been shattered in place. 

When they were out of earshot, Harry cleared his throat. 

“I’m planning to go to the Three Broomsticks after supper. Would you like to join me? It’s a good break from here, sometimes.”

Draco looked a little surprised but rapidly regained his composure. His face was still for a moment while he contemplated, and then he nodded sharply, once.

“Yes. I’ve been meaning to get out. I do wonder, though, can you even hold your firewhiskey, Pott–” He caught himself, “ _ Harry _ ?”

Harry smiled.

“You’ll find out, I wager.”


	3. Chapter 3

“S’matter, Harry, too much to drink?” Draco said, wavering slightly. He had drank one-for-one with Harry and it was starting to show. Neither were drunk, but they were on that edge where things are hyper-clear but dangerously uninhibited. “You can’t be lighter weight than me.”

Harry was staring at his drink as though it was the child of a blast-ended skrewt and Horace Slughorn, and Draco’s words ripped him out of his stupor. They had been drinking for… a fairly long time, by his rough estimate, and they had talked awkwardly at first, then comfortably. Draco was still snarky and sometimes an idiot, but Harry had been a little surprised by how well they got on. He grumbled and stretched, then pointed at Draco.

“Not drunk. Worried. You. Worried about  _ you _ .” Harry tried to collect himself, to bring order to his words. Draco looked unnerved at the minimum. “I don’t understand you. I’ve read everything on you, and I have known you for years, but you still. You’re very you.”

Draco raised his eyebrows and grinned at that, leaning forward.

“What in Merlin’s name do you think I would be?” He laughed for a moment, then shook his head. His laughter melted into a quiet somberness as he spoke. “I’m not a monster, you know. I have always been me. And it wasn’t always bad.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he examined his drink with the same intensity as Harry had his. 

“I know we have a history, Harry.” 

Harry snorted into his drink.

“A history?” He coughed, “is that what we’re calling it?”

Draco cringed, then shrugged. He attempted a smile but it came out more a pout.

“What else could we call it? A shared past in trauma? A life of betrayal and tragedy?” He waved his hand at the barkeep and downed his drink in the same movement. “Should we delve into it deeper? Do you want to hear my apologies? I do appreciate that you haven’t blasted me off the parapets but I admit I was wondering how long it would take for us to hit this point.”

Harry finished his drink as well, trying to figure out how to say the things in his head without sticking his foot in his mouth. Their drinks were refreshed, but now they were simmering, staring at each other. Harry spoke carefully.

“I would like to know more about you, and why… just why. Why everything.” He rubbed his scar. “I know that’s a hard ask, and it’s not immediate. But I do wonder. I wonder all the time, why I went one way, and you… went another.”

He hesitated. When he spoke again, his voice was heavier, darker.

“I don’t want to fight. I’ve done enough of that.”

Draco stiffened as Harry spoke, but at the end, he nodded slowly. 

“I suppose that’s reasonable.”

They sat in silence. There was a new feeling between them, and Harry couldn’t quite touch on it. Draco eventually spoke again.

“Can I have some time?” He sounded almost wounded, his voice something Harry had only heard once or twice before, in dire times. “I want to be clear.”

Harry nodded quickly, and before he could think it through, he reached across the small table to grab Draco’s hand. It was chilly and damp from the drink, and Draco felt like he was almost pulling away, but changed his mind. Harry held it for a moment.

“Yes. Time is something we have, now.” 

The last word hung between them for a moment, and they both swallowed down feelings that had been building the whole night. It took a very long time for Harry to register that he was still holding Draco’s hand, and he was so reluctant to let it go when he did. Draco had grasped it, out of the now heavy drunkenness or angst or what have you, and when Harry started to untangle it, they stared at each other until they let go, and then they both buried their faces back into their drinks. 

Harry’s thoughts were clouds made of proper butterbeer froth, sticking and boozy, but the sweetness was only just easing in. He peered over the rim of his large mug at Draco, whose hair was longer now, he just noticed. It wasn’t slicked back anymore, either, but brushed softly so it fell over his eyes when he looked down. Harry mentally grumbled, wondering why he was focusing on Draco’s hair, and how Draco’s eyes looked so pale even in the dark bar, and how he’d never noticed the scars on Draco’s fingertips until their hands had pressed together. 

“Wha- What happened to your hands?” He murmured quietly. 

Draco looked at his own hands like he’d never seen them before. After a few long seconds, he looked startled.

“Oh right! Right.” He spread his fingers wide and showed them to Harry. “D’you know, charms aren’t easy, right? Seamus Finnigan had nothing on me when I tried the spells in Flitwick’s advanced charms manual he sent me. Not like, seventh year spells, no. These were those like, Granger ones.”

Harry laughed at that. Hermione still was one of the brightest witches of the era, though Ginny wasn’t far behind. She had such a reputation that she was a household name, and Harry counted himself proud to have copied her homework. That Draco would use her name did surprise him, but he resisted the urge to comment as Draco went on.

“There’s this spell that makes you a dragon out of miniature galaxies. Galaxies! Would you imagine?” He looked happier than Harry had ever seen him. “That one took six months. It was the one for the fingers, here.”

He pointed at each of his fingertips to show the shapes of swirls and sparks. 

“It was amazing, and it hurt like a blasted -- what do Muggles call those things? Firepopper?” He waved his hands around. Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Fire _ cracker _ .”

“Right!” Draco slapped his hands together in a loud clap. “Firecracker! It hurt like the dickens and I took a while to recover. But let me tell you, if I ever get sober again, I’ll show you that dragon.”

Harry smiled, and he realized he was leaning on his hand and just watching Draco, absorbed. Draco just looked so  _ happy _ .  It made him feel strange. It kind of reminded him of how he had felt strange looking at Cedric, and like how he hadn’t felt strange looking at Ginny, but it was still that sort of pinchy feeling in his chest that made his hands feel stretched in the direction of Draco. At that moment, Harry noted he had also had drunk all his drink, as had Draco, so he paid the bill and dragged a very drunk and somewhat breathless Draco out of the bar towards home.

It was a long trip, especially since it was late enough they had to walk in the dark. In snow. Harry should have been chilled, but the alcohol in his blood made him almost feverish, and with the heavy, warm weight of Draco leaning on him, he felt just fine. Every few moments he’d look over and Draco would be smiling a little smirk and staring up at the sky, occasionally tripping over his own feet. They trundled towards the castle, and nearing the gate they hit a patch of ice. Harry had been watching for it - Draco had not. Draco slipped and fell backwards, flailing widely, and Harry kept his balance, until Draco’s flails pulled him right down. Harry hit the cold ground like a brick, and the pain echoed through his body. 

“Fucking hell, what’ve you done?” In spite of the pain, he laid looking up at the night sky and felt a chuckle rising out of his chest. He tried to hold it back, and he turned in the snow to see Draco holding his hands over his mouth, trying to hold back from laughter that was so much different than the laughs Harry had heard from him when they were young. Draco was  _ giggling _ , and it was - no better word for it -  _ adorable _ . 

“You sound like a - hahaha - I don’t even know -” Harry laughed and shoved Draco in the shoulder, “what the hell is that laugh, even?”

Draco shoved him back, and sputtered out a few words of nonsense before laughing again. After a few minutes, their laughter died down to some soft chuckles, and they laid in the snow that had quickly melted from their body heat. Harry sat up begrudgingly but in necessity, and turned, yanking Draco up by the collar to sit up next to him, and suddenly they were very close. 

Harry stared at Draco, and Draco stared back with an intensity that Harry would never have expected. They were silent for a moment before Harry tried to speak.

“We need to go back to the castle.” He was whispering and he had no idea why. “It’s late and it’s cold. McGonagall will send hounds after us or something.”

Draco smiled softly. He looked dazed, and Harry supposed he would as well, with how much they’d drank. Draco whispered, too.

“Yes, we should. It’s dangerous in the dark.”

Harry could see Draco’s eyes so close, and how his hair was in the way, and Harry reached up and brushed it back. They both tensed, but Draco was still smiling, and Harry didn’t quite know what to do. Draco leaned close to him, and spoke so softly that Harry almost couldn’t hear him.

“ _ Scared _ , Harry?” 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat and he shivered from something that was definitely not the cold. His hand tightened in Draco’s collar, and the two men leaned towards each other in hesitation and anticipation. Their lips touched, so gently, so cold and quivering. Harry felt his body stir, and he could taste the booze on Draco’s lips, and he shivered. Draco embraced Harry and pulled him close for just a moment, kissing him deeper and harder, and Harry wanted it to continue. But, no, they broke apart and inched away from each other just slightly, and looked at each other with worried faces. Harry spoke first.

“That was… I’m not sure if. Well.” 

Draco was not much more eloquent.

“That was. Yes. Sleep? Separately.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. They pulled each other to their feet, and Harry couldn’t ignore the feeling of touching Draco, and of Draco touching him, and by the time he hit his pillow that night he was not sure which he had enjoyed more.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry had a headache. It was a hangover headache, a hang-on headache, a skull-splitting screaming in his skull that left him on the edge of vomiting all through whatever a breakfast not eaten should be called. He had temporarily darkened the lenses of his glasses with a quick spell Hermione had taught him when she returned from Egypt (she had gone to research curses, as a means to possibly undo some damage done to survivors of curses in the war - the ministry kind of let Hermione do whatever Hermione wanted these days) and it helped dramatically in avoiding Draco’s gaze. 

Though, it looked like Draco was doing his own dance of avoidance as he turned his back to Harry and huddled over what looked like a bowl of porridge. It, also, was untouched. Harry shoved some toast into his mouth and headed off to his room, driving as many thoughts of  _ anything _ as he could from his mind. He only had a few more days until classes started again and he was Too Busy For Things, and he could avoid Draco until then. He could certainly--

“Harry.” 

Harry stopped in his tracks. Draco’s voice was sharp, and Harry thought of running off for a brief moment before turning to respond. 

“Draco. Good morning.”

“Morning. We should discuss last night.” Draco didn’t seem as severe as his voice had suggested. In fact, he seemed hesitant. His right hand grasped the bottom of his jumper, but the rest of him was still. Harry stepped forward, still many feet away but  _ closer _ .

“Draco, listen, we were drinking. It was cold and we’d both probably bumped our heads.” He rubbed his scar, and pulled off his glasses to rub at his red, sore eyes. “There are any number of reasons. We can forget about it.”

Draco looked at Harry in a way that made Harry simultaneously terrified and turned on, and he bit his tongue so hard he thought it might bleed. Draco stepped toward Harry, closing the distance until they were close, too close, so close, and he spoke in a shaky, low voice. 

“Do you  _ want _ to forget it?”

Harry stared at the ceiling above them, seeing cracks in the stone from a massive blast. His emotions were roiling inside him like snakes, and he whispered to himself in Parseltongue, to hear words aloud that might fix his mind without Draco knowing. He wanted to stop  _ thinking _ about this, but he couldn’t  _ do _ what he wanted. 

“What else should I do?” He said it as much to the arches above him as he did to Draco, but it was Draco who responded. Harry felt cool fingertips on his cheek and chin, turning his face down, and Draco’s eyes were as red as his and just as scared as his were. Draco bit his lip and shook his head.

“I’m not sure. I just need to know something.”

Harry startled as Draco’s body collided with his and their lips touched. This was no drunken half-numbed lips kiss. It wasn’t under the stars in the bloody cold, but under the scars of the war they had both fought and one had lost. It was sudden and strange, and Harry thought it would be terrible and that his swirling intoxicated dreams were lies, but he cursed himself when it wasn’t. It just wasn’t.

Draco’s hands moved to touch Harry’s neck and tangle in his hair, and Harry tugged at Draco’s waist involuntarily, wanting to feel his warmth. They melted into each other for moments, and Harry gasped when they parted. Draco’s cheeks were flushed pink, and he seemed to be struggling not to smile. Harry  _ did _ smile, and Draco let out a deep breath before smiling back. He brushed his hair back with both hands, then fixed his jumper.

“That answered that. I’ll see you at supper, then.” Draco walked briskly past Harry and headed towards his room. 

Harry sputtered, flustered, and yelled after him.

“What the hell, you git?” His face was hot and his ears almost ringing, and he thought about going after Draco before he remembered (kindly assisted by the thumping and banging in his brainpan) that he had a world-class headache. He found his bed again, and shoved his face into blankets while he tried to make sense of the world.

He didn’t succeed.

\---

Harry was extremely frustrated over the next two days that Draco managed to keep himself completely unavailable except at mealtimes, where he was conveniently multiple seats away. Harry would look towards Draco and more than once caught Draco watching him, but Draco didn’t look away. At lunch he even  _ winked _ . Harry was properly steamed by that point, and after the meal went straight to Draco’s room. After knocking a few times with no response, he settled onto the floor beside the door to read. His wait wasn’t long, and Draco seemed pleased he was there. 

“Did you miss me?” Draco smiled slyly as he walked past Harry to unlock his door and walk in, leaving the door open behind him.

“No. Well, yes. No.” Harry stood up and followed him inside and shut the door behind him. “What do you think you’re doing, pulling that and just buggering off with no word?”

Draco took off his jacket and tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, taking his time to respond to Harry, before sitting down on his bed. 

“I needed time to think. As did you, I imagine.” He smiled. “Plus, it has been quite fun.”

Harry shrugged out of his jacket in frustration. Draco’s room was too warm and very small compared to his, and he was uncomfortable in the first place. There were no other chairs. He wondered why everything was such a challenge with Draco, and sat unceremoniously on the bed beside Draco.

“You are, frankly, a prick.”

Draco laughed, and nodded in agreement.

“I suppose I always have been. You have to understand, though,” he shrugged in faux defeat, “I’m incorrigible.” 

“Draco.”

“Fine. Here, let’s start with this.” He put his hand on Harry’s thigh, and Harry almost jumped to the ceiling. “Oh calm down. I’m just going to talk.”

Harry settled down onto the bed and angled to face Draco. Draco took a deep breath.

“I know about you. Everyone in the world knows about you, everything. But you don’t know me.” He swallowed hard. “No one really does.”

He squeezed Harry’s thigh and leaned in.

“I would like you to. But it’s complicated.” Draco’s thumb rubbed over the cords of Harry’s corduroys as he spoke. “You may be the only person who understood the Dark…  _ Voldemort’s _ actions and what he was who isn’t expecting me to be the strong person for  _ them _ . I wasn’t expecting you to be kind to me when I got here, but you have been, and this… I don’t know if you’re just lonely, or if it was a mistake, but it felt like something. And I’d like that kind of something to come with understanding, if it happens at all.”

Harry looked at Draco with his mouth partway open in disbelief. Not only was Draco Malfoy here, having kissed him, but he was talking like a grown adult about  _ emotions _ ? Harry knew it was quite rude to be surprised, but he had never expected Draco to be in any of this, how any of this, why any of this. But he was glad for Draco’s words, and the wish to know each other was one he shared. 

“Surprisingly, the world does not know everything about me.” He smiled, and put his hand over Draco’s and squeezed. “We could work on you knowing it, though. And I’d like to know more about you. I tell you, Neville is a good person to talk to, but he has told me literally every story about his grandmother he knows at least three times each. We could talk. Is that… something we could try to do?”

Draco let out a barely-hidden sigh of relief. He nodded. Harry lifted Draco’s hand to hold it in his, and pulled Draco towards him into a kiss. It wasn’t a long kiss, or a hard kiss, but it was a good one. They pulled away and looked at each other carefully, then they looked down at the bed and back up at each other with mischievous grins. Harry grabbed the front of Draco’s shirt and carefully tugged him further up the bed and kissed him, mentally battling with the part of him that knew he had no idea what he was doing. 

Draco seemed a little better versed in things, and had his mouth and tongue moving on Harry’s skin in brilliant lines in moments. Harry noticed at some point that Draco’s quick fingers hand unbuttoned his shirt and Draco’s own, and the sudden lack of barrier to Draco’s body was more than he had expected. His cock was hard, and he had no idea what to do with it. Ginny normally took the lead here.  _ Shit _ .

His hesitation must have been obvious, because Draco slowed down, and just gently and lazily kissed Harry’s lips, cheek, jaw, neck, and collarbone in a hot, tempting line. Harry carefully ran his fingertips over Draco’s torso, over his pale skin and light muscles. He settled at Draco’s trouser waistband, brushing over the curled blond hair above it that led beneath. Draco paused in kissing to look at Harry, and before they could speak, there was a polite rapping at the door.

“ _ Fuck _ . A moment!” 

Draco jumped to his feet and rapidly buttoned his shirt, tucking in one half. He saw Harry struggling with buttons and slapped Harry’s hands away. Harry stared at Draco grumpily while Draco’s fingers flew up and down, putting them into place. It made Harry think, not very briefly, about how Draco might be able to do other things with those deft hands, and it momentarily dazed him. 

Draco shook Harry a little and nodded at him. He spoke matter-of-factly.

“Reviewing charms application in defense, yes? Yes.”

Harry nodded, his senses aligning. Harry nudged Draco’s hair into place, caressing his cheek in the process. Draco smiled, and the knocking came again. He made a face then went to the door. Outside, McGonagall stood with pursed lips. 

“What on earth might you be doing that took you so long to get to the door?” 

Harry waved from behind Draco. 

“Charms. In defense, I mean, Headmistress.” 

Draco nodded and looked at McGonagall expectantly. She raised an eyebrow and looked between them.

“Well. That would be quite an  _ unusual _ combination.” She settled her shoulders. “Professor Malfoy, we’ve received word your mother is in need of you. Are you able to return home? It seems just a small visit, so we’re expecting you back before classes return.”

Draco immediately sobered, and nodded.

“I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Thank you for the message, Headmistress. I will return in time.”

He turned and began to close the door, but McGonagall stopped him.

“I hope your mother is well, Professor Malfoy. Please send my wishes.” As she turned to leave, she paused. “By the by, I certainly do hope you use the necessary precautions while experimenting with… charms in defense.”

Harry could swear she winked before she swept away, and he and Draco stared at each other for a moment when she left. Harry knew for sure she had to have guessed but that was not a trip his mind wanted to go on, so he shrugged. 

“Shall I help you prepare to leave? Or walk you out?” 

Draco shook his head. 

“I have clothes at home, I just need to grab my jacket and bag.” As he named them, he picked them up. “I’ll return soon.”

He kissed Harry once, softly, then left in a rush. Harry stood behind, alone in Draco’s room, but feeling much less alone than he’d felt for a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we're making progress! :) Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and commented! It's so exciting to hear that people like the story!

Post-War AU

Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

* * *

 

Harry was not a patient man.

Really, waiting for anything was a nightmare to him - he shook his leg while seated, paced while upright, tossed and turned when horizontal, and all the while tapped and stretched and wriggled like a schoolboy. This was over such simple things as anxiety for mealtimes or staff meetings, or waiting in line, or sleeping the night before a trip. 

But this?

This was _torture_. 

Draco had only left four hours ago and it was nearly dinner and Harry _knew_  Draco would not return until the morning at the very least but the mere thought of waiting until then to address the very pressing need he had for Draco -  _Need for **Draco!**_ He could not get over that part - and for some sort of settling, some sort of calm that could only be achieved by answering questions he didn’t even know how to answer.

He did know, however, that he seriously wished he had a computer and access to the internet like he did when he would visit Dudley, because he was pretty sure that he could use it to figure out one of his most urgent questions. He sat on his bed with his head in his hands and groaned. 

Girls were confusing to him emotionally, though not so much as people might assume since he actually talked to some, but sexually it was simple. Even though it had been possibly the most awkward thing ever, Arthur and Molly had tried to give him The Talk, but it was for straight people, and Harry had really thought that’s what he was.

His cock begged to differ.

He had spent most of the last four hours alternating between anxiety and cataloging every person he’d ever been interested in, and he counted out the girls, and that was expected, but when he counted out the boys and men, well. That was something he had tried _not_ to think about. He counted maybe four, and stopped there. That was enough for him to figure out that Draco wasn’t an outlier, but also enough for him to know that he didn’t want to sit this one out. 

He considered that he probably should have thought this out _before_ kissing Draco and touching him and feeling his skin and... _Fuck_ , that was a distracting line of thought. He hadn’t thought of it before because he figured Draco was just fucking with him, honestly. Which, really, if you took the “with” out, Harry was okay with now.

* * *

 

One thing that people didn’t know about Neville Longbottom is that while he did not have a great memory, he was _incredibly_  observant. It’s how he caught his friends when they insisted, repeatedly, on breaking rules. It’s how he survived the war. It’s how he managed to get a date with Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball. And now, it was how he noticed that Harry Potter was acting _extremely strange_ , and had been for the last few days, and he kept staring at the seat where Draco Malfoy had been sitting for the school year.

Harry began to storm away after shoveling food into his face at a pace unmatched by any first year on Christmas, and was promptly cornered by Neville outside the Great Hall.

“How’re you, Harry?” He spoke casually, but Harry noticed the steely note in Neville’s voice that he reserved for unruly students and Seamus Finnigan anywhere near explosives. 

“Er, hello Nevile,” Harry responded, trying to inch away. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong but he didn’t want to find out. “I’m on the way to my room. Headache, you know.”

Neville - who was now quite taller than Harry - _loomed_ , and shook his head.

“Not yet. What’re you up to?” Neville crossed his arms. “Where’s Draco?”

Harry felt his stomach fill with lead.

“He’s seeing his mum. She’s not well. Why?”

“Well, you’ve certainly been looking for him, so I was curious. Has he done something?” A crinkle of worry across Neville’s brow betrayed his concern.

Harry shook his head quickly - too quickly. Neville rolled his eyes. 

“Just tell me, alright?”

Harry took a deep breath, then thought to himself, _I’m a grown adult. I can have relationships. I don’t have to lie._  So he didn’t.

“Draco and I... we kissed. And that’s sort of a thing that’s happening, I supposed, though I don’t really quite know what’s happening, and we were discussing it and he had to go and now I’m just wondering what’s _going_ to happen if anything does, and --” 

Neville stopped him there.

“Hold on, hold on. Slow down. You and Draco did _what_?”

Harry laughed nervously, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head.

“Kissed. I don’t know, we’d been drinking, and then it happened again when we weren’t, and then it happened a lot this afternoon.” He groaned in exasperation. “This is so fucking strange, Neville. I’m very confused.”

Neville covered his hand with his mouth and Harry knew he was trying not to laugh, and doing a very poor job of it. Neville’s chuckles were not cruel ones - Harry didn’t think Neville had the heart for cruelty, and he was always grateful for that - but they did rapidly overflow. He slapped Harry on the shoulder.

“Harry, you had me worried! I thought he was being a bloody bastard again, not aiming to toss you off.” Neville snorted, and leered. “Has McGonagall had the talk about protective spells with you yet?”

Harry’s face flushed.

“She may have said something of the sort.” 

“Well, Harry, I think it’s just fine you’ve got something to do in your spare time. You’ve been reading so much I’d swear you were turning into Hermione.” Neville unexpectedly pulled Harry into a hug. “I don’t know if it’s exactly the right choice, he can be a right git, and you should be very careful if you tell Ron. But fucking right, get on that.”

Harry stared at Neville in disbelief. 

“You’re alright, Neville, you know that?” 

Neville laughed.

“I know. People tell me all the time.” He winked, and left Harry to his shock.

* * *

 

It was 6am when Harry was shaken awake. 

Madam Pomfrey had given him a sleep draught that he took sometimes for nightmares, and after yesterday, he’d been so stressed that he felt he had to. That was why he didn’t hear someone coming into his room, speaking to him, or leaning over him. He did feel them shake his shoulder, however, and his reflexes kicked in immediately.

He leapt out of bed and brandished his wand, terrifying the fuck out of Draco, who put his hands up in front of him. 

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Draco’s eyes were wide. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Harry scrubbed at his eyes with one hand and shoved his wand as though he were pocketing it, but realized he had no pockets. 

“I didn’t hear you, I was sleeping. What the hell are you doing?”

“I came to see you to tell you I’ve returned, since we were interrupted, but you didn’t respond to my knocks. I was concerned!” Draco dropped his hands and rolled his eyes. “Did you think I was going to murder you or something?”

Harry sputtered.

“Well I didn’t know it was _you_  and also _possibly_! Keep in mind I’ve been attempted-to-be-murdered quite a few times!” 

Draco uttered a quiet “ _eeesh”_  and cringed. 

“Sorry.” He paused, a very small smile on his lips. “Should I... give you a moment?”

Harry looked confused for a minute, then remembered where and when he was, standing in his pants immediately upon waking. He was half-mast and his pajamas were insufficient to disguise that. He cleared his throat and turned away.

“Uh, sorry.”

He felt swift movement behind him, but resisted the urge to turn around. He could feel Draco standing close behind him, and then felt a chilly hand slide over and around his bare torso as Draco carefully pressed himself against Harry’s back. Draco kissed Harry’s neck gently, then whispered in his ear.

“There’s no need to apologize.” He kissed little kisses on Harry’s neck, softer than Harry expected, and then Draco’s breath was hot on Harry’s neck and ear as he spoke. “I want you.”

Harry felt shivers run down his spine and goosebumps prickling his skin. No part of him wanted to resist what his body was asking for, and every part of him was still extremely confused about why he wanted this so much. He tilted his head so Draco could kiss his neck more easily and laid his hand over Draco’s, and then realized that he had to tell Draco something he didn’t really want to tell anyone.

“Draco, I... I don’t know how.”

Draco paused, but only to squeeze Harry closer.

“I do. And we will go slow, if you want to do anything at all.” Draco spoke with his lips just brushing Harry’s skin and it was intoxicating, but Harry was more surprised at how casually Draco was acting. He turned to face Draco and spoke, curiously.

“Why are you so comfortable with this?” Harry, holding Draco’s hand still, hesitated. “Everything between us forever has been a mess, and I thought you were _straight_ , and now you know how to do this and you don’t _hate_  me?”

Draco looked away for a moment, collecting himself. Harry could see every movement of his body, the tensing, the realignment, the relaxing all through it, and when Draco turned and brushed his hair back out of his eyes, he looked determined.

“I am not who I was, Harry. It’s been years, and I've _changed_.” He kissed Harry, cupping Harry’s face in his hand, then stepped back. “And I haven’t hated you for a very long time - I don’t know if I ever really did. I was angry, and I was _supposed_  to hate you. And you hurt me, too.”

He pulled back his collar to point at the barely-visible scar from Harry’s _sectumsempra_ spell, and Harry squeezed Draco’s hand tightly. He hadn’t noticed the scar yesterday when he was so overwhelmed, and he felt guilty both for not noticing, and for causing it.

“I’m sorry.”

Draco smiled and stepped away, just a little. 

“I accept your apology, even though I don’t know if I deserve it. I promise you, I don’t harbor a secret hate for you, and I can almost guarantee I’m as nervous and confused about this as you are. I’m just very good at _faking_ , Harry.” He stood up straight and raised his eyebrow, looking posh and pretentious. “I have always had to play a part. But you know that. And you know that the worst of that is over.”

He relaxed and smiled, and took Harry’s hand to lead him to the bed, where they sat close together. Harry felt a little better, and he leaned over and kissed Draco first, this time, nervously at first, then more earnestly, holding Draco’s cheek in his hand and pressing closer to Draco. He fiddled at Draco’s shirt buttons, then gave up and just pulled the shirt out of Draco’s pants and slid his hands up beneath it to touch Draco’s chest and stomach, feeling the small ridge of the scar he now recalled feeling beneath his fingers yesterday without registering it. 

Draco made some quiet noises that Harry really liked and returned some exploratory teasing of Harry’s chest and neck, and Harry wanted more. He could taste bitter coffee on Draco’s tongue and mentally cringed at the idea of how awful morning breath he must have but figured it had already gone this far, so he kept going. After a few minutes of kissing, Draco pushed him back. 

Draco’s cheeks were flushed pink and his hair was messy from Harry’s hand wandering up to tangle in it. He was smiling, but he paused to hold Harry’s face in his hands and run his thumb over Harry’s lips, which were reddened and sensitive from their kisses. 

“Okay. This is fantastic.” He took a deep breath. “But we have to slow down for a moment.”

If he hadn’t steeled himself for a much worse review of his kissing, Harry wouldn’t have had the resolve to avoid pouting at this statement. He raised a grumpy eyebrow at Draco.

“Well, _why_?”

Draco snorted in laughter, and to Harry’s surprise, _snuggled_ against him. It was unusual because in all reality, Draco’s body type was quite similar to Harry’s, while Ginny had been mostly muscle. Professional quidditch players tend to be pretty athletic, and while he was pretty sure that Draco (like him) still practiced quidditch for fun, it was quite different. It felt strange but ultimately he really enjoyed it, and stared at Draco, contented with the contact but still expecting a response. Draco finally relented to giving an answer.

“Because _you_  are inexperienced,” he smirked, “and I am also, honestly, kind of inexperienced. And this is kind of a lot, really. And also I would like to not fuck it up. And we need to figure out what ‘it’ is.”

Harry listened, then nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah. All of those things.” He sighed. “What do you want it to be?”

Draco looked at Harry for a moment before kissing him slowly, deeply, and holding him close. When he pulled away, he answered, his voice soft and nervously shaking.

* * *

 

_to be continued!_


	6. Chapter 6

Post-War AU

Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

NSFW

* * *

Harry and Draco sat, together, closer than ever before. They were both holding their breath, staring into each others eyes, waiting for Draco to answer Harry’s question:

“What do you want it to be?”

Draco’s nervousness was evident, and after he pulled Harry close and settled back again, he spoke.

“I have spent a lot of time unsure of how I feel about you, Harry. So many years. But I do know, now, what I feel, though I don’t know where it will go.” He took Harry’s hand and held it to his cheek, closing his eyes for a moment. “I would like to be with you. And yes, I do want to sleep with you, and I want to see how good it feels to fuck you.”

Harry felt his cheeks and ears get warm, and he smiled, but waited for Draco to finish speaking.

“But, really, Harry, I liked talking to you at drinks. And I like hearing your voice when you talk at dinner and meetings. I like watching you run your hands through your hair constantly trying to get it to stay put. I guess I just _like_  you, if there weren’t a more juvenile thing to say.”

Harry breathed out as slowly as he could manage. 

* * *

This was good, it was very good, but also very bad, because what was he supposed to do? Say right back that he has a _crush_  on _Draco Malfoy_? What would Hermione say? What would _Ron_ say? He refocused on Draco’s eyes and the anxiety melted away, mostly. 

“Draco, I... I think like is not very juvenile at all.” He swallowed down prickles of panic. “I _like_  you, too.”

He touched Draco’s face, examining the lines and angles of it where Draco’s pale skin had the small scars granted from the tiniest shrapnel from the war and wrinkles on a man too young for them. They were both still young, right? He almost had to think about it. Young enough, maybe, that this could be more. He kissed Draco, slowly and deeply, and Draco kissed back, his hands grasping at Harry for more, until Harry pulled back smiling.

“Draco, would you like to be my _boyfriend_?”

Draco looked startled before bursting into laughter and pulling Harry into a tight hug. Harry laughed with him, and when their cheer quieted to soft smiles, Draco responded.

“I think that works just fine.”

They sat together in silence for a while, pressed closed together, and eventually Harry nudged up against Draco and kissed his neck, then settled his hands to slowly unbuttoning Draco’s shirt. Draco made a small noise, not of dissent but Harry figured Draco was more concerned Harry would do it wrong, since Draco immediately swatted Harry’s hands away to take off his own shirt. Harry shrugged, and leaned back to watch. He saw Draco’s cheeks go slightly pink at that, and it gave him some smug satisfaction to make Draco nervous -- it was cute. 

Draco tossed his shirt to the side and climbed onto the bed, still in his trousers (which Harry found slightly offensive as he wanted Draco to leave off those trousers). After some shuffling they arranged themselves beside each other, at a distance that should have been uncomfortable but certainly wasn’t, and Harry wanted to get even closer. He kissed Draco, letting his hands run freely all over Draco’s body, stroking over his arms and chest, over the light muscles of his torso and stomach, and reaching behind to grasp Draco’s ass and pull him closer. 

Draco made a satisfied noise, and whispered “nice” beneath his breath. Harry, emboldened, brought a hand between them and carefully but determinedly groped Draco’s cock through his trousers. Harry was pleased to note that Draco was hard for him, and Draco sounded pretty pleased as well. Draco was never one for subtlety, and swiftly slipped his hand, still chilly, down the front of Harry’s pajamas to grasp Harry’s cock, which they’d both known was more than ready for this. 

Harry, however, had _not_  been ready for it. he gasped and moaned, involuntarily moving his hips toward Draco, and Draco _smirked_. Harry saw the expression and his eyes widened, and before he could think, Draco had turned him onto his back and was kneeling between Harry’s legs. Harry’s cock was hard and hot, and Draco was touching it gently, stroking it, while looking up at Harry. 

Harry had an “aha” moment when Draco licked his lips and looked at Harry’s cock before he looked back up. His voice was breathy when he spoke. 

“Would you like me to....” He bit his lip briefly. “I want to taste you.”

That statement was so incredibly hot to Harry that it sent a shiver throughout his body and made his cock quiver. He nodded and clenched his fists at his sides before Draco took his hands. As Draco moved between Harry’s legs, he took one of Harry’s hands to wind into his hair - “not too rough,” he whispered - and held the other down at Harry’s side where he braced himself. 

Harry didn’t know what he’d expected. Ginny’d done this before, and he figured it would be the same, but the anticipation was higher, and when Draco’s lips and tongue touched his cock he nearly hit the ceiling. Draco was stroking Harry’s cock with one hand while he teased his tongue around the head, nudging back the foreskin and touching his teeth gently on it. Harry watched Draco, sometimes brushing his hair out of the way, other times gripping it so hard Draco would mumble around Harry’s cock and it would be a battle for Harry to resist doing it again. 

Draco was attentive and gentle, exploring Harry slowly, sucking and sliding Harry’s cock deep into his mouth and twirling his tongue around it as he pulled it out. When Harry was moaning and gasping and thrusting up into Draco’s mouth, Draco hummed softly and slipped a finger back to press behind Harry’s balls, and Harry’s gibberish expletives in response encouraged him to slip it even further back to tease Harry’s ass. 

Harry was beyond words. He was virtually nonfunctional. Ginny had never done that, or half of this, it was just not a thing. He gasped and found himself begging, hanging on the edge of coming but so hesitant to end how good it felt. When Draco lifted his head for a moment, he could see the familiar stress in Harry’s face, and he spoke quietly and deeply.

“You can come now, Harry. There will be more.”

It wasn’t a demand or a request, but it combined with Draco’s tongue doing god knows what on the tip of his cock, Harry gripped Draco’s hair and moaned, deeply and forcefully, as he came. Draco managed to dodge the spray of Harry’s come as it splashed onto Harry’s stomach, spilling out and making Harry shudder from the continued sensation. Harry lie there, utterly overwhelmed. 

Draco sneaked his wand out of his jacket by the bed and muttered a quiet spell to tidy up the mess before lying next to Harry. 

“Was that good?” He asked, seemingly trying not to assume based on the evidence.

Harry, still a little out of breath, chuckled and nodded as he took Draco’s hand. 

“Fuck yes, it certainly was.”  He looked down to see the bulge in Draco’s trousers and gestured as he leaned close to kiss Draco.

;Should I --” He began, before being interrupted by the bells for breakfast. Both men groaned in frustration - though Draco’s certainly was more filled with angst - clambered out of bed to dress. it took considerably longer than normal, since neither of them seemed to be able to resist sneakily groping one another as they got ready.  

Before they left, Harry took Draco’s arm. He kissed him quickly on the cheek, which felt weird and childish but also really sweet and comforting.

“Listen, we still need to talk about some things, but I’m really sorry we were interrupted. I wanted to...” He wasn’t sure exactly what he had wanted to do other than something in the area of “make you come so hard you see stars” but he figured Draco would get the point.

Draco smiled and tapped Harry’s nose with his fingertip.

“I promise, I’ll let you make it up to me.”

* * *

ta daaa! more to come ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco & Harry resume.

\--

Breakfast was possibly the most annoying meal of the day. That's what Harry was beginning to think, anyway. It had always taken away from sleep, but now, it had stopped something very exciting, and he was most bitter. He was also bothered by the length of the table at breakfast, and that Draco was on the opposite end of it. Although, he had to admit that he was very grateful that  _he_ was the one who had got off. Draco was pink cheeked and snippy, practically chewing his coffee. Having come didn't seem to ease Harry's cock's desire to rise, and he realized how desperate he felt about the opportunity to be together with Draco. 

He hoped eventually the slight panic and massive confusion at the thought of that would go away. He flushed a little, and adjusted his chair with a loud squeak. Heads turned to see his disruptive behavior and he spilled a bit of tea. 

McGonagall cast a knowing look at him from the center of the table, raising an eyebrow. Harry would truly like to know, someday, how she knew  _everything_. It was mindblowing. To his similar distress, Professor Trelawney gazed at him from down the table, but not in her normal fuzzy-eyed, dazed manner. Instead, she smiled, and toasted him with a sausage. He breathed in his tea and burst into a coughing fit at that, and shoved his breakfast down quickly before retreating. He intended to spend the rest of the morning locked in his office grading papers, grateful his classes did not start for some time. 

He did not expect the owl.

He had known, of course, Draco would be teaching in the morning. He did not realize that Draco didn't handle sexual frustration well, though he supposed he might have guessed it. A disheveled owl collided with his desk bearing a hastily scribbled note in the mid-morning. 

_After dinner, tonight, my room? Please._

It was signed with a small series of dots, traced together. Harry stared at it for a moment before it dawned on him - the constellation. Draco was a  _dork_. It made him kind of giddy to see the note. Draco's handwriting was pristine normally, he knew, but this was sharper. Truly, Draco was not patient. Harry smiled with smug satisfaction at the thought. He sent back a simple note.

_Certainly. I'll bring a drink._

The owl fluttered off, seemingly confused at carrying one-line notes. Harry went about his day as normal, though when he ran into Neville in the hall, Neville beamed at him happily as though he'd won an award.

"Looks like we're both having good days! Luna will be in town in a week to visit, and you've finally done something interesting!" 

Harry flushed and shook his head.

"I'm glad Luna's visiting, but I don't know what you mean."

Neville nudged Harry's shoulder and winked.

"You look relaxed, Harry. I know what that means. Keep it up, maybe you'll get used to it."

Neville wandered off cheerfully, and Harry ran to the nearest loo to stare in the mirror. He stared for a minute, then he realized what Neville meant. He  _did_ look relaxed. It looked odd on him. Not bad, really, just odd. He let his shoulders drop a little and nodded. Yeah, he could get used to this.

\--

He tapped on Draco's door after waiting what he thought was an appropriate time after dinner. By which was meant, like fifteen minutes, maybe, at the longest estimate. It must have still been too long, because Draco opened the door, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him through the door and directly into a kiss. The door slammed behind him but he was suddenly very distracted by Draco's lips and hands and body, and he had the stark realization that Draco was only some approximation of dressed. Draco kissed Harry so hard he thought his lips would bruise, and when they parted, they were both nearly winded.

"Well that was a hello, I suppose." Harry smiled and lifted the bottle in his hand. "Found this liquor. Tastes like licorice."  

Draco looked confused for a minute, then nodded, and went to get glasses from his side table.

"Draco." Harry spoke hesitantly.

"Mmmhm?" 

"Where are your clothes?"

Draco spun around with the glasses and smiled, his smooth-looking pants swaying a little, and his shirt doing nothing because  _he was not wearing a shirt, at all_. 

"You've already seen it and frankly I was changing out of work clothes, which I see you didn't manage to do," he smirked at Harry, "and had to throw something on in a hurry when I heard you coming down the hall."

"Oh."

"I was expecting you soon but you aren't exactly prompt, Harry." 

Harry scrunched his nose for a moment, but it passed, mostly because watching Draco walk was  _very_ interesting, because of the whole no-shirt thing and also because the pants left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He sat, perched, on the edge of Draco's bed while drinks were poured, and Draco sat beside him once he had a drink in his hand. 

"How did your classes go?" Draco sipped his drink, tilting his head a little and listening for Harry's response. Harry was a little unnerved. He was unprepared for someone asking him about his day.  _No one_ asked about his day. It felt unusual but nice. 

"Um, well. No one did anything disastrous, and I talked about Dumbledore's Army." Dumbledore's name still sat like lead in his mouth. To many people, the old headmaster had been a hero. To Harry, he had gone from a father figure to someone who had used him. He didn't know if he'd ever reconcile those feelings. But, that wasn't something to talk about now, he didn't think. 

"Harry?"

He looked up at the sound of Draco's voice, not realizing he'd been so distant in thought. He shook his head.

"Sorry, I just was thinking about something. How were your classes?"

Draco looked at him in suspicion, narrowing his eyes and raising his chin.

"They were fine. Seamus Finnegan's nephew has joined as a first year. He's a nightmare. Blew up a bubble. A  _bubble_." He shrugged. "That's how it is, though. Now tell me, what were you thinking about?"

Harry stood and shoved off a few layers until he was just in a shirt and corduroys, then swigged some of the liquor. _A little too much,_  he thought, when it burned his nose. 

"Memories. Not good ones."

"Tell me. I can tell you need to talk, Harry." Draco took his wrist and pulled him down to the bed, tugging him close. Both of them momentarily froze, but then melted together. They laid in the bed with Draco sprawling back on a propped pillow, and Harry curling into his side, partially lying over his chest. They sipped their drinks for a moment until Draco spoke again. "Please, Harry."

Harry sighed.

"I trusted him, you know." He swirled the liquor in his glass. "Dumbledore meant very much to me. But I didn't to him."

"What do you mean?" 

"I was just a tool. He wanted to defeat Voldemort, and I was the one he needed to do it. There are things that I found out. Later, I mean. He kept me at the Dursleys, kept me from everyone else, so I wouldn't be distracted. So I would be angrier. So I would need him." Harry shook his head. "He needed me. It was a good way to control me, and to keep me from having relationships he couldn't influence." 

"Oh." Draco's response was soft. "Was it bad there?"

Harry nodded slowly, and Draco spoke again.

"Sometimes the places we are supposed to safe aren't. And the people who are supposed to love us  _don't._ "

Harry turned a little to look at Draco, whose grey eyes were nearly dark, and Draco spoke carefully, slowly.

"My father was not a kind man. And neither was Voldemort." He paused. "They were in my home, for years. And my father gave me to Voldemort. I wanted to make him happy, and I believed what they told me."

"That I needed to die?"

"No." Draco looked away from Harry for a moment, cringing before he looked back. "That so many people did. You were just one."

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks. Harry finished his and set it aside, then set aside Draco's finished drink as well, a few moments later. He turned in the bed until he was facing Draco and they were pressed tightly together. He stroked the line of Draco's jaw and kissed it. 

"You must think I'm a monster, Harry." Draco said it almost without feeling, but Harry could feel the tight hesitation. "I trusted the wrong people. I believed things that were wrong. I did things that were wrong."

Harry smiled, a pained smile with too much weight to it.

"I did, too." He did something strange then, surprising himself and Draco, and wrapped Draco into a hug. He held him close, and Draco hugged him back. He furrowed his brow. "It was war, Draco. But it's okay. It's over."

When he pulled back, he kissed Draco gently, and they laid together quietly. After a while, they spoke of other things, sillier things, calmer things, while they snuggled close. Eventually, Harry regained awareness of Draco's lack of clothing, and he whispered in Draco's ear.

"Am I overdressed?"

Draco chuckled and unbuttoned the first of Harry's shirt buttons. 

"Absolutely!"

The two of them managed to tug off Harry's shirt, and Draco immediately removed Harry's trousers before he could even register an objection - though he didn't have one. It made him hard, feeling Draco's hands pulling the trousers off of them, and Draco's very careful movements up his thighs. Draco stroked the inside of Harry's thighs, moving up to tug down his pants, and it made Harry shiver, but Harry took Draco's hands. 

"Not yet, it's my turn." He smiled when Draco looked confused. "You got to taste me. I want to try you, if you're willing."

Draco's cheeks reddened, but he smiled. He took Harry's hand and placed it on his cock through the silky fabric of his sleep pants, and Harry could feel the length of it, the fabric barely a camouflage for how hard Draco was. Draco's cock jumped in Harry's hand, and Draco nibbled on his lower lip before he asked. 

"Should I give you any guidance?" 

Harry nodded, and his voice struggled to catch up with his brain.

"I um, I want to know what you like. I want to, um, yes. I would like that."

They rearranged on the bed, and Draco laid back before he slid the pants down, hooking the waistband under his balls to present his cock. Harry thought for a moment that it was a little pretentious to do that, but had to admit it looked really hot. He moved between Draco's legs and propped himself up, then began stroking Draco's cock with his hand, enjoying the feeling of Draco's soft, warm skin in his hand, the hardness making him hold his breath thinking of how it might feel, and imagining how it would taste. He could feel Draco's eyes on him, and then Draco's hand moving up his shoulder and onto his neck. 

"Do you want to do this, Harry?" Draco asked as he stroked Harry's neck.

Harry nodded. He could see Draco's smile and it made him smile, too. Draco gently pressed down on Harry's neck, then moved his hand up to thread into Harry's hair. Harry lowered his mouth down, carefully licking out with his tongue to taste the tip of Draco's cock. Draco's fingertips quivered against Harry's skin at this, and then Draco started carefully giving instructions. 

Harry found it was quite exciting to hear Draco telling him where to lick, when to suck, and how to move his hands. Draco's cock tasted so good, and it was easy to get lost in the experience. It was different, and he was nervous, but Draco's guidance made him emboldened.

"Yes, lick there - there, yes - oh --" Draco's gasps were pretty thrilling, too, and the moans he made when Harry wrapped his lips around Draco's cock and slid it deeper in to suck and to swirl his tongue around. Draco's hands would wrap tightly in Harry's hair as he continued, "just watch your teeth, and move up a little, and move your tongue to the - oh Merlin, you've got it --"

Harry could feel Draco tightening in his mouth and hand, and knew what was about to happen. He lifted up just barely in time, only enough to avoid Draco filling his mouth with come. It splashed onto his lips, and onto Draco's stomach and bed. Harry stroked Draco's cock until he was sure there was no more to come, and then he snagged his wand from nearby and cleaned up the mess while Draco lie back, vaguely puddle-like in behavior. 

Draco smiled lazily at Harry.

"That was fantastic, love. I thought you'd never done that before?"

"I haven't!" Harry insisted. "You gave very good instruction, though, Draco."

Harry dropped unceremoniously beside Draco and kissed him. He fiddled for a moment with his wand, directing the bottle of liquor to pour them both a new glass, and Draco watched in amusement at the shaky delivery. As brilliant as Harry was, his Charms skills had always been a little shaky. Draco didn't mind, especially when the glass reached his hand. He adjusted his clothes to be more comfortable, and as he sipped his drink, asked Harry,

"Should you spend the night?"

Harry started and looked at Draco, unsure.

"I have no idea. Would you like me to?"

Draco looked confused and stared at his drink, then at Harry.

"Hell, I'm not sure. I suppose we can just let what happens, happen?"

Draco responded to Harry's accepting shrug by kissing him deeply, pulling him close while trying to awkwardly hold the glass. When they parted, Harry adjusted his glasses.

"So far, I'm really liking what's happening!"

 

* * *

 

hopefully more soon!


End file.
